Chapter 317| Feeling Afraid Of Failure Is Incredibly Human
The castle’s stone corridors had begun to empty of passing servants as Raphael and Elodie stepped out of Aurelia’s private sitting room.
Elodie let out a long, heavy exhale that she had been unconsciously holding in. Haaah. Her chest was still pounding with nerves ever since the Queen had looked at her with that deeply knowing, mischievous smile.
But well... at least she had made it out of that room alive without dying a ridiculous death from a panic attack.
Raphael strolled casually with his hands stuffed in his pockets, completely oblivious to the internal hurricane raging within the girl beside him. "Let’s head straight to the dining room. You must be starving by now."
"Eh? I-I’m actually perfectly fine, reall—"
Grumble... growl...
Elodie’s stomach abruptly betrayed its master, rumbling loudly enough to shatter the quiet of the corridor. The girl’s face instantly flushed a ripe, boiling red.
She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately praying the stone floor beneath her would crack open and swallow her whole that very second.
Raphael chuckled softly. "Turns out your stomach is much more honest than your mouth, El."
They finally arrived at the family dining room.
This wasn’t the colossal banquet hall used for official state dinners that Elodie had always pictured—with a table dozens of meters long and stiff servants lining every corner. This was a much warmer, far more intimate space.
In the center sat a sturdy teakwood table, just large enough to seat twelve. In the corner, a stone fireplace burned brightly, popping with a gentle warmth. Crackle... crackle... The wooden walls were adorned with beautiful landscape paintings of snow-capped mountains, not creepy, scowling portraits of ancient ancestors staring down arrogantly.
Elodie looked around in awe. "Is this... really your family’s dining room?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I just thought nobles of your caliber would always eat in some giant hall. Sitting meters apart from one end of the table to the other."
Raphael snorted in amusement. Hmph. "The grand hall is only used for bureaucratic banquets or welcoming royal guests. For our daily meals, my family always gathers in this room. It feels much warmer."
The young prince pulled out one of the velvet-lined chairs. "Sit down. Don’t be so stiff like you’re waiting for the gallows."
Elodie sat down slowly across from Raphael, moving with exaggerated caution as if the expensive chair might snap under her weight at any moment.
Before long, a servant emerged from a side door—the exact same brown-haired young man who had greeted them at the gates earlier.
"Good evening, Young Lord Raphael. A thousand apologies, but the main dinner has not yet been prepared by the kitchens. Normally, the feast is only brought out when His Majesty the King and—"
"No need to wait for the main course, and I already got the green light from Mother," Raphael cut in smoothly. "Just set up portions for the two of us. Bring out whatever is already cooked and ready in the kitchen."
The servant nodded in understanding and vanished back through the door.
The food arrived much faster than Elodie expected.
A plate of dark, blackened-brown meat radiating plumes of mouth-watering steam. It was served alongside a bowl of warm white rice, shrimp paste sambal in a small clay mortar, and a jar of crispy, golden prawn crackers.
Instantly, the aroma of the dish ambushed Elodie’s senses. It was a lethal, intoxicating combination of savory coconut milk, coriander, cloves, and a burst of spicy aromatics she had never smelled in her entire life. Gulp. Elodie’s mouth reflexively watered.
"W-What kind of food is this?" Elodie asked in sheer amazement, her eyes wide as she stared at the plate before her.
"It’s called Rendang," Raphael answered casually, already busy scooping rice onto his own plate. "Mother was the first one to concoct this foreign recipe in the castle kitchen. Now the royal chefs are experts at making it themselves. Go on, try it."
Elodie picked up a piece of the dark meat with her fork. She stared at it hesitantly for a fraction of a second before popping it into her mouth. The first chew.
The village girl’s eyes practically bulged out of her head. The spices exploded across her tongue!
"Is this... this is beef, right? How is the texture this incredibly tender?!" Elodie mumbled in absolute awe, chewing slowly to savor every ounce of the flavor. "There’s a hint of sweetness... a warm, spicy kick... it’s so savory... My gods, I don’t even have the vocabulary to describe how delicious this is."
"So, is it good?"
"This... this is phenomenal, Raphael." Elodie didn’t hesitate to take a second, massive bite. "At home, my family usually just eats bland boiled potatoes and hard wheat bread. Maybe some beetroot soup on harvest days. We’ve never eaten a dish that tastes anywhere near this good."
Raphael smirked in satisfaction at her reaction. "In that case, from now on, you’ll just have to drop by and mooch off our food more often. Someday, you’ll have to taste the Rendang cooked directly by Mother’s own hands. It tastes a hundred times crazier than the royal chef’s."
"If I keep eating this, I’m going to get fat."
"Hahaha, I think that is a very small risk that’s well worth taking, El."
The two of them ate in a profoundly comfortable silence. The echoing crackle of firewood from the hearth served as the only background music, blending with the soft clinking of spoons and forks against ceramic plates.
Slowly but surely, Elodie’s body language began to melt into relaxation. Her shoulders lost their tension. Her back was no longer rigid as a wooden board.
"Hey... just so you know, the guys in the military class secretly admire you a lot," Elodie said suddenly, breaking the quiet.
Raphael looked up slowly, his fork pausing mid-air. "Admire me? Who do you mean?"
"Kell. Barret. And the other guys from Sergeant Garon’s simulation class this morning," Elodie scooped a spoonful of rice, offering a small smile. "This afternoon, after your training session ended, they couldn’t stop talking about you at the cafeteria table. Kell said your brain has the instincts of a real field commander. Barret also said that in this entire school, you’re the only student with the guts to stare down Sergeant Garon."
Raphael didn’t immediately respond to the flattery. He chewed his meat slowly, then reached for his glass. Gulp, gulp. He downed his water.
"They say that... because they’ve never seen me suffer an absolute, crushing defeat," Raphael murmured, staring blankly at his plate.
"That’s not the response of someone trying to be humble, Raphael." Elodie stopped chewing. "That is the answer of someone secretly terrified of failure."
Raphael’s hand froze over the table. The prince’s sharp eyes slowly shifted to look at Elodie’s face. The girl stared back at him with a calm expression, seemingly unaware—or perhaps entirely intentional—that her words had just pierced flawlessly through his emotional defenses.
"I... have tasted defeat many times, Elodie," Raphael finally confessed, his voice growing heavy. "Back then, when I first enrolled in the elite Royal Academy in the Capital of Sol-Regis... I was jumped by five noble seniors. I was beaten to an absolute pulp until I couldn’t even stand up to breathe. My brother had to come and save my life."
Elodie slowly set down her fork and spoon. Clink. This was the very first time this cold, arrogant prince had been willing to bare the shame of his past to an outsider.
"Ever since that humiliating incident, I swore to myself that I would never lose again," Raphael continued, his jaw tightening slightly. "But... the deeper I study military tactics... the more I’m forced to realize that... defeat is sometimes the foundation of a victory. Sergeant Garon taught me that philosophy. My brother proved it to me."
"So, with all that understanding... do you still feel afraid to lose?"
Raphael fell silent for a long time. A heavy sigh escaped his nose. "...Sometimes."
Hearing that incredibly rare, raw honesty, Elodie smiled. It was a very faint, yet profoundly warm smile. "That is perfectly okay, Raphael. Feeling afraid of failure is incredibly human."
The two of them returned to finishing their meal in silence. But this time, the atmosphere between them had undeniably shifted. The thick, invisible wall—one built on aristocratic caste status and stubborn pride—was slowly beginning to show hairline fractures.
After the plates on the table had been picked completely clean, Elodie wiped her lips with a cloth napkin, then glanced toward the window. The sky outside had already been swallowed by the night. The girl cleared her throat softly.
"Raphael... thank you for the meal. But I really need to go home now. It’s getting late."
Raphael, who was still leaning comfortably back in his chair, looked at her. "Wait."
Elodie paused, looking at him with raised eyebrows. "Why?"
"Before you leave... there’s one more place in this castle I want to show you."
Elodie gave him a highly suspicious look. "What place now?"
"The royal library."
Elodie’s round eyes blew wide open in shock. "What?! R-Raphael, hold on a second. That is an exclusive library facility strictly for the royal family! I am absolutely forbidden from stepping foot in there. I’m not a—"
"Tonight, your status is my guest," Raphael cut her off decisively, already standing up and adjusting his uniform collar. "And I am a prince here. If the prince himself walks you through those doors, which guard would dare forbid it?"
"But still—"
"Elodie." Raphael looked her dead in the eye. Intense and unwavering. "Trust me."
Elodie was instantly silenced. There was a magnetic pull in Raphael’s tone just now. It wasn’t the arrogance or the command of a prince; it was pure, unadulterated sincerity from a friend who desperately wanted to share something precious with her.
"...Alright. If you insist."
The two of them walked deeper into the more secluded corridors of the castle. Far from the bustling halls of the soldiers, far from the hurried traffic of the servants.
The illumination from the crystal lamps in this hallway was designed to be much dimmer, providing just enough light to guide the way. Elodie swallowed hard; she could literally feel the rapid, hammering rhythm of her own heartbeat as they arrived before a pair of colossal teakwood double doors. Intricate, towering carvings of the Northern Wolf guarded the surface of the wood.
An elderly man in a faded gray robe stood sleepily beside the doors. His back was slightly hunched, his eyes hidden behind extra-thick eyeglass lenses, and his arm clutched a stack of thick, leather-bound books. The royal librarian.
The moment his hearing caught Raphael’s footsteps, the old man instantly offered a respectful bow. "Young Lord Raphael. It is rare for you to visit at this hour."
"There’s something I want to show my friend, Old Timer," Raphael answered briefly.
The librarian’s wrinkled eyes slowly shifted, scrutinizing Elodie’s face from behind his thick glasses. A flash of hesitation crossed the old man’s eyes—this simply-dressed young girl was clearly not of blue-blood descent.
The librarian nearly opened his mouth to ask for a special permit, but Raphael was faster. He grabbed the heavy metal handles and firmly pushed the massive doors open himself. Creaaaak...
Elodie stepped inside hesitantly. And a split second later... her sanity seemingly stopped working.